


Unexpected Encounter

by faeyrearcherons



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8031991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeyrearcherons/pseuds/faeyrearcherons
Summary: Rhys’ POV in ACOTAR when he pays a surprise visit to Tamlin, Lucien and Feyre after the Summer Solstice.





	Unexpected Encounter

Since my visits to the Spring Court were few and far between, I had to create a flair for the dramatics. Pissing off Tamlin was an art form and it took me centuries to perfect it. The Spring Court was filled with its usual idiotic sycophants, all ambitious to rise through the ranks by whatever means necessary. Tamlin’s courtiers were an accurate representation of his whole territory, lovely and pleasant on the surface but vicious with backhanded insults on the inside.

I winnowed a few yards away from Tamlin’s manor. The gardens outside, usually filled with the whisperings and chattering’s of servants, had gone silent. The manor’s exterior became deserted within seconds of my arrival. _Wise faeries,_ I thought.

Amarantha was pleased with my success on Calanmai. As far as she knew, my motivations to go to the Spring Court that night was to spy on Tamlin. I promised her I would root out traitors and three miserable pricks I found made for perfect decoys. Ideally, I would have enjoyed slaughtering them at first sight but I needed them for Amarantha. I made them lie and claim they were traitors and were looking for other rebels that night. I enjoyed seeing them break, because I knew if anyone found out my true motivations for going to the Spring Court that night, the girl's punishment would pale in comparison.

I straighten the lapels of my jacket, driving the girl out of my thoughts and to the matter at hand. I haven’t seen Tamlin in nearly fifty years and was itching for a fight. Entering the hall, the manor was silent. The only indications of life were the two masked figures in the dining room. As soon as I entered the room, something about the scent was off. Like a faded memory long since passed. I quickly smothered my uneasiness.

“High Lord,” I said, inclining my head slightly.

Tamlin’s voice was filled with venom, “What do you want Rhysand?” Oh, he was more irritated than usual. He didn't take my little present from a few days ago too well. Amarantha and her courtiers find all sorts of amusements in torturing lowly faeries - she often sent me to do her dirty work. Putting the head of a Fae male in the Spring Court gardens was nothing new.

I give my former friend a saccharine smile. “Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I don’t see you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand? Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that.”

I turn my attention to Lucien. A fox mask seemed appropriate for him; I tell him as much. _Go to Hell, Rhys_ was his only response. Pity, he's usually in a better mood for bantering.

“What are you doing here Rhys?” Tamlin said, asking the obvious.

“I wanted to check up on you,” I replied flippantly, “See if you got my little present.”

“Your present was unnecessary,” he replied.

I surveyed the rooms. Nearly fifty years relaxing in a country estate and he has done nothing to attempt to save his people. I had always known he despised being a High Lord – stubborn, selfish bastard – but this was pathetic. If only his father and brothers could see the High Lord he'd become, they'd be rolling over in their pyres.

“Though a nice reminder of the fun days. How different you are now from the brutal war-band leader centuries ago.”

“What would you know?” Lucien interrupted, “You’re just Amarantha’s whore.”

My blood boiled with rage. _Tamlin’s lackey isn’t worth losing control. Remember Velaris. And Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren. Everything I endure is for them, my city and my people. All else is secondary._

I forced myself to swallow my dignity and pride, as I have been for decades. “Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons. At least I haven’t bided my time among the hedges and flowers while the world has gone to Hell,” I reply coldly.

Lucien’s sword rose slightly, enraged. “If you think that’s all I’ve been doing; you’ll soon learn otherwise.”

My curiosity pikes up, Lucien is smarter than this hotheaded display. Which means he has something to hide. Interesting.

“Is that any way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian? Come now, Tamlin. Shouldn’t you reprimand your lackey for speaking to me like that?”

“I don’t enforce rank in my court,” Tamlin said.

“Still? It’s so entertaining when they grovel. Shame your father never showed you.”

“This isn’t the Night Court,” Lucien hissed. “And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.”

My patience with Tamlin’s lackey runs out. I press him against the wall before he can even react, “I was slaughtering on the battlefield before you were even born,” I snarl. Taking a quick whiff, I realized it’s him, something about Lucien’s scent isn’t quite right. I withdraw quickly so he won’t detect the change in my expression.

Apparently, it’s not only my own patience that's run out. “Save it for another time Rhys,” said Tamlin, rubbing his temples, clearly waiting for me to leave, “You’ll see me soon enough.”

Satisfied at seeing his irritation, I made my way toward the doors. Pissing off Tamlin quickly and easily was always something I took pride in, “She’s already preparing for you. Given your current state, I think I can safely report that you’ve already been broken and will reconsider her offer.”

As soon as the words left my lips I noticed Lucien and Tamlin did not look like they have been defeated. Lucien in particular was watching me warily. Too warily. His breath hitched as I passed the table. What were they hiding?

“I’m looking forward to seeing your face when you–” and then I froze. The table was set for three.

Lucien wasn’t hiding _something_ ; he was hiding _someone._

“Where’s your guest?” I ask nonchalantly.

“I sent them off when I sensed your arrival,” Tamlin replied, his voice as cold and unconcerned as my own.

Having enough of false pleasantries, I whirled on Lucien. “You dare glamour me?” I growl. My body contorted with rage.

Tamlin shoved his chair back and rose. I ignored him, knowing he wouldn’t dare attack me – the consequences would be too great.

Unfortunately, Lucien had a different idea – pinning the girl even harder against the wall, as if she could disappear into them at a moment’s notice.

Shock, absolute shock swelled within me. _It's_ _her. The girl from Calanmai._ And then a cold understanding dawned, _she’s been living here, this whole time. The girl is meant to break Amarantha's curse._

I couldn’t help but stare at her, “I remember you,” I said softly, “It seems like you ignored my warning to stay out of trouble.” Never taking my eyes off her, I address Tamlin. “Who, pray tell, is your guest?”

“My betrothed,” Lucien answered quickly for him. I scoff at his pitiful excuse for a lie.

“Oh? Here I was thinking you still mourned your commoner lover after all these centuries.”

The color drained from Lucien’s face, but he was unyielding and drew his sword between us. My smile grew, _Little Lucien. So foolish. So brave._

“Put your sword down, Lucien,” Tamlin ordered and he had no choice but to obey.

I approach them, brushing Lucien aside. I glance down at the girl’s hand and suppress my laughter. She had the audacity to use a dinner knife against the most powerful High Lord in Prythian! _Impressive,_ I thought, _for a human._

“That won’t do you good anyway,” I told her, prying the dinner knife from her hands. “If you were smart, you’d be running and screaming from this place. It’s a wonder you’re still here actually.” The deadline for the curse was in three days, the chances of her breaking it were getting slimmer by the hour. She stared at me in obvious confusion. “Oh, she doesn’t know, does she?”

“You have seconds Rhys. Seconds to get out.” Tamlin’s threat was empty and he knew it.

I broke into the girl’s mind, holding hard enough that she felt it. All her memories rushed in: hunting in a forest, painting flowers on a table – like the ones in my dreams. I sort through her other thoughts, looking for something, anything to use as leverage against Tamlin. The girl couldn’t stay in Prythian. If she broke the curse Amarantha would kill her.

“I’d forgotten that human minds are as easy to shatter as porcelain,” I feign disinterest, running a finger along her collarbone.

“Let. Her. Go.” He was scared, scared for her. Good. He needed to be afraid, needed to know how powerless he was to save her.

“Amarantha will enjoy breaking her,” I said. That part wasn’t a lie, she would delight in breaking her hands apart. Those painter’s hands.

Tamlin froze, like a deer caught within a hunters range of sight. “Please,” was all he said.

“Please what?” I coaxed.

“Don’t tell Amarantha about her.” I had him right where I wanted him. I smiled viciously and pointed to the ground, “Beg, and I’ll consider not telling Amarantha.”

The High Lord of the Spring Court dropped to his knees and lowered his head.

“You too, fox-boy,” I said. Pretty soon both Lucien and Tamlin were groveling. I wondered if they were doing this for their sakes or hers.

“You’re far to desperate, Tamlin. It’s off-putting. Becoming a High Lord has made you boring.”

“Are you going to tell Amarantha?” Oh, how I was enjoying this. It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages, really.

“Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t,” I reply smirking.

In a moment Tamlin was on his feet, his claws close to my face. I clicked my tongue, he didn’t have the gall to truly threaten me.

“None of that, not with a lady present,” I turn to the girl, her eyes full of hatred.

I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but Cauldron knows how selfish I am. I couldn’t walk away without learning her name. “What’s your name, love?”

“Clare Beddor,” she replied gasping.

She was lying, I knew she was lying. I held her mind in my grip and she still had the audacity and foresight to lie to my face. At least I'll be able to give Amarantha the girl's name. She obviously invented it at the moment's notice.

 _Walking away from her a second time. Now you’ll never see her again,_ my thoughts whispered. I pray my performance will be enough to get Tamlin to send her away from this hellhole. I turn back to him, “I’ll give Amarantha your regards.”

Then I winnowed away.


End file.
